Revolutions
by Tahirih22
Summary: Nick and a fellow CSI attempt to escape from kidnapper's and return to safety. Together they try to understand the circumstances surrounding their abduction while running for their lives. Miami & Vegas Crossover. NickCalleigh pairing. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Revolutions **

Author's Note:

I don't own any CBS characters. All reviews, positive and negative (I think constructive crit is necessary in the evolution of all writers) are welcome.

Enjoy!!

I.

Nick ran for all he was worth. Heart slamming in his ribcage he hurtled through the woods, heedless to the barbs that snatched and tore at his clothing or the stinging slap of pine boughs across his face. His side burned and the gash running down his calf throbbed in raw agony. Breath came in short desperate bursts while his mind focused on only one thing.

_Run_

The forest floor was intense with shrubbery making it difficult to navigate. Nick used a thick sapling for support as he moved swiftly downhill. It was then that he saw a woman running out of a dense canopy of trees coming from the east. With only enough time to realize that her wrists were bound together, he lost his footing and slammed face first onto the thick, moss covered roots of a pine. Rolling head over feet Nick came to rest only a few yards from her.

Brilliant green eyes bored into his and to his surprise she was crouched in front of him holding a jagged rock. She was fast; his fall couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. Dressed in the same garb has he, a camel colored long sleeved shirt and green scrub pants, she also wore an identical expression—terror. Nick sat on the frozen ground panting hoping she would decide that he wasn't a threat.

"You're still tied up," he muttered eyeing her, "nobody came to untie you?" Her hair was streaked with mud and covered in nettles. With her hands bound she struggled to her feet and again lurched into a run. "This way!" he called out as he quickly stood. Startled, she paused and blinked at him. Even underneath the layers of grime Nick noticed her beauty. "We've gotta move downhill, downhill!" Still she looked confused and made as if she were going to continue moving in her original direction. "We need to get off this mountain and find a stream; Stream to river, river to people." He explained.

"I was…I…," she murmured looking back east, "where are we?" All too soon, a burly looking man came crashing though the forest somewhere behind them and screamed, "I got one! I got one!"

_Oh no, not me you son of a bitch. Not me._ Nick grabbed the woman by the elbow and pulled her downhill. They trod through the forest, not caring if they were leaving a trail—just as long as they got far enough away. Hot sweat stung his eyes and ran in rivulets down his back, soaking his shirt. There was no escaping the tree roots that sent them mercilessly tumbling and crashing. Nick looked back every few meters to make sure she was still with him. She was small, but she could move quickly.

To his sudden joy, Nick heard the unmistakable sound of moving water and scrambled over a small outcropping of rock. There was a small bank in front of them that lead to a stream, swollen with mountain runoff. Nick dashed to the edge taking note of the depth and speed. A branch broke behind him, making his heart lurch painfully before he realized it was the woman walking wearily up beside him.

"Water," she murmured dreamily.

"Safety," he said. "C'mon, we gotta stay with the bank just incase—"

"Incase they have dogs," she finished, still staring into the water.

"Let's hope not."

Over an hour had passed since the man had yelled out after them and there was no sign of their pursuer. Still, Nick refused to believe that they had lost them. Sticking to the stream had proved difficult. The rocks were wet and slick and as the stream slowly began widening into a river, the bank began to disappear. This made running and even trotting nearly impossible, but it also made it harder for them to be tracked. As hard as they tried to stay clear of the icy water, it quickly invaded their soft-soled shoes and soaked their feet and legs. The two did not speak, they knew better than to give away their position to the men above them. So far, it seemed, following the stream was paying off.

The wind whistled past them and sliced easily through their thin, wet clothing. Even if they made it far enough through the woods, they might not survive being wet in this weather, he thought bitterly. The woman slipped and stumbled on a moss covered rock, nearly falling bodily into the water. Nick quickly stuck his arms out and steadied her. "Alright?" he asked, and she nodded.

The water was moving more swiftly now and if he listened closely Nick could hear the gathering roar of a waterfall. The embankment was beginning to widen into a smooth, pebbled shore, dotted with man-sized bolders. With his ears trained on the forest around them, Nick began looking for a sharp rock to cut away her bonds. Their path along the river was now wide enough to easily fit six men walking side by side. The woman moved further away from him and squinted into the distance. Less than one hundred meters away, Nick could make out a cloud of mist coming off the torrent of water now tumbling off the edge of the cliff. The roar was nearly deafening and he was singularly aware that they could be easily ambushed without the slightest forewarning. She moved lithely around him to his left and with her back against a massive flat boulder, six times his height; she inched closer to the mouth of the waterfall and peered down.

Nick stared at her nervously and resisted the urge to grab her by the arm and snatch her back from the drop. Instead he moved forward himself and was relieved to see that the water only fell about forty feet into the river below, but was equally dismayed to find that there was no immediate way down. The woman backed away from the edge and watched him rake his hands through his hair in frustration. Together they scanned the forest in front of them looking for a way down. She looked up at him and pointed to a slope south east of the falls. It was steep yet passable. When he didn't respond she stepped closer to him and mouthed something that he couldn't hear over the waterfall. Nick hissed through his teeth and shrank a few inches. He didn't need to hear her to know that she told him it was their only way down. The slope was a quarter of a mile away through dense forest. It would take them at least an hour to hike that and they'd have to backtrack to where the river was passable to get across.

Time had been wasted; they had stopped for too long. He had led to them to a fall of forty feet and now there was nothing for it but to go back the way they came. The small woman looked at him imploringly and tugged at his sleeve. "I know!" he yelled, but the roar of the water dampened his words. As she looked up at him her eyes grew startlingly wide and her mouth opened in a scream that he couldn't hear.

_Whomp_

A man jumped off the boulder behind them and fell onto Nick's back. He sagged under the weight crashing to the ground. Nick blinked and tried to breathe in, but the enormous weight on his back pushed the air out of his lungs. They had lost; it was over. He knew he would never get out of the woods alive. The weight left him abruptly and as Nick struggled to fill his lungs he felt the large man thud on the pebbled ground next to him. Blood spattered the man's shirt and gushed from a gash behind his ear. With the quickness of an athlete and blonde hair whirling, the woman raised a large rock stained with red and came again for the man next to him. Nick watched as time slowed and the man pulled out a small hunting knife from his belt.

She had no chance.

Silver flashed through the air coming towards her in an upward arch. Nick hadn't realized he'd moved until his body collided with their pursuer. The blade caught him just under his hairline, separating skin, hair and thin muscle. Blood poured down the side of his face like hot silk. Time sped up. Again and again came the flashes of silver as he and the man danced around each other. Half blinded by blood and unarmed, Nick was undoubtedly disadvantaged. With a cry of fury the man launched himself at Nick. The woman wasted no time and dashed behind him with the large rock. The man noticed her shadow coming towards him and whirled around in time for the rock to connect with his face. The sound was sickening. Even over the roar of the water Nick could the man's bones crunch against the rock. Staggering backward, he sagged to his knees with a cry. Blood and spittle poured from his mouth and nose. Before Nick could even take a step, the man, dazed and with startling speed, sprang forward and rammed his head into her middle. Nick would never forget the look of shock on her face as they both tumbled into the raging water and disappeared over the edge.

"NOOO!" He ran to the edge of the bolder and looked down into the churning water. He saw a heavy workman's boot, a swirl blonde hair and then nothing. "SHIT!" he cried. He looked longingly at the slope on the other side of the river, but there would be no time. He clutched his hair only to further separate the flap of skin under his hairline. Cursing bitterly Nick toed the edge of the cliff. Still he scanned the water hopefully, praying that the woman who saved him would break through the surface of the restless water, but there was nothing. He inched closer to the edge and balanced himself. He tried to slow his breathing and the hammering of his heart to no avail. Nick took two, deep lungfulls of air, covered his balls with his right hand and jumped.

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	2. Pleasantries & Introductions

**Pleasantries & Introductions**

_Breathe_

Icy, tumultuous, water twisted and pulled at Nick. Which way was up? Sodden, his shoes were heavy blocks of weight. The force of the plummeting water beat his head mercilessly. There was no air, no light, only cold. The cold poured into him, beckoning him to relax and breathe. It squeezed him from all sides, pressing his insides into a hard knot.

_Relax and breathe._

The icy water caressed his face, his hands, his chest and tried to lull him to sleep. _Breathe_, it coaxed, _just breathe in. Relax, I am the comforter._ His senses dulled, he felt his body letting go and twisting with the water. What was so bad anyway, about going to sleep? Nick's fingers, dumb senseless things, grazed and dragged gently over the rough riverbed. Something black was looming ahead of him. He allowed the current to move him closer. It was large, black and coarse. His body gave an involuntary lurch and he slammed his forehead into the object. The gash on his head sent revitalizing pain coursing through his limbs. Nick opened his eyes wide and recognized what floated before him. It was a boot, a large black boot, connected to a leg; it was the body of the man who had attacked him. It was floating just as placidly as he had been. Abruptly, he felt his lungs burning for oxygen. The woman! Nick kicked and clawed, praying the he was moving in the direction of the surface.

It was his nose that broke the water first. He trashed and flailed against the current, gasping and sputtering as he fought his way towards the shore. It was then that he saw her. She lay face down in the water; her blonde hair was tangled in the dead branches of a low bending tree. "H-HEY!" Nick cried out hoarsely, "HEY!" She wasn't far from him. Wishing that he wasn't wearing shoes, for they were weighing him down, Nick stopped fighting the current and allowed it to pull him towards her body. Her shirt was ripped on her shoulder and though they had only been in the water for no more than a minute, Nick knew she must be dead. He grabbed onto her, her arms as cold as his and he heard strands of her hair, ever tangled in the dead branches, snap under the pressure.

"H-hey…lady we gotta," he gasped bobbing along with her. He wasn't sure why he was talking, but it felt wrong to manhandle her without at least saying_ something_. "C'mon, we gotta g-get out." Nick grabbed hold of the branches that held her and began to snap them. He spoke to her the entire time, twice getting mouthfuls of water as a result. Shivering and with his muscles burning under her dead weight, Nick dragged her across the pebbled shore. She was beautiful; the water had washed away most of the grime that covered her. Her eyes were half-lidded; a dead woman's eyes that held none of the fire and intelligence that he had seen earlier. Nick felt like crying. A dry moan escaped his throat as he looked down on his companion. He was so alone, no one was going to help him and he was going to die in these woods. He coughed and spat on the ground and looked down at her. Suddenly catching movement, his eyes flickered to her throat. There it was again! Nick gasped and quickly placed two fingers on her neck.

"Shit!" he screamed. He should have known better! He should have _known better_! Here he was crying over her and all she needed was air. Cursing his stupidity Nick titled her head back, pinched her nose and breathed into her mouth. Two quick breaths, watch the chest move, check for a pulse, two quick breaths, watch the chest move, check for…

"Come on honey, breathe," he croaked in despair. Surprisingly, her chest heaved and she coughed up a mouthful of river water onto the ground. Nick cried aloud and covered her forehead with his hand. Water rattled in her lungs with every breath, but right before she passed into unconsciousness, Nick saw her green eyes ignite.

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She was deathly cold, yet somehow her muscles were on fire. She felt weak, naked and uncomfortable. From behind her closed eyelids she could make out an orange flicker. There was a sudden blast of warmth which was almost immediately overcome by an icy wind. Was she outside and what was that sound? Listening harder she heard it again. As the fog in her brain began to clear she heard it again, it was unmistakable—someone was near her. Another blast of warmth and the orange flicker became stronger. But again, the night wind blew mightily and cloaked her in its bitter blackness. As the wind blew in all its might she heard more movement and a string of curses; instinctively, she froze. "_Shit, goddamnit!_"

Her heart was beating faster as he came closer. He was so close now that she could hear his ragged breathing. Every fiber in her body was screaming for her to jump back and run away. Yet, she lay as still as death. A warm hand touched her forehead and the side of her face. She could feel his breath misting over her and the stillness between them was alarming. What was he waiting for? This wouldn't be the first time in the last few weeks that someone had gone too far and she'd woken up from unconsciousness. She was resolved, she would not move, she would hardly breathe, if she feigned unconsciousness they couldn't continue their never-ending questions. Though, as she remembered with a pang of fear, they had their ways of rousing you.

He sighed and moved away. The rustling grew louder now; it sounded like wood snapping. Again the flicker of orange and…what _was_ he doing? She hesitated, what if he was looking, waiting for her to drop her ruse? Still, ever so slowly, incrementally, she lifted one eyelid. He was dirty; he wore no shirt and looked nothing like any of the men she had become accustomed to. They probably recruited someone new then. He was hunkered over a tiny pile of wood the size of large matchsticks. With his back to her he worked feverishly, sawing his arms back and forth until—"Yes!" he cried holding a flaming ball of tinder. Quickly, but tenderly he stuffed it underneath the pile of twigs and breathed on them. He actually looked comical, a large man on all fours breathing hopefully into fast dying embers. Unbelievably, the twigs caught and sprang forth into flame. "Yeah!" he said hoarsely and spun around to meet her gaze.

She was so startled by his sudden movement that she had no time to feign sleep again. He stared at her silently, standing over his small fire. The flames cast shadows dancing across his face, making him look demonic. Terror gripped her insides. It was stupid, so stupid, as usual she had let her curiosity overtake her senses and now she was going to suffer.

"Hey, you're awake hey." Quietly he walked over and knelt in front of her. "How're you feelin'?" he asked kindly. They had tried this tactic before. She was used to their menstruations; she would not say a word.

"You okay there?" Quickly she glanced around him. She was in the woods, this was a new one. He reached out to feel her forehead again, but she flinched away. Quickly he pulled his hand back as if burned and frowned. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you…I-I you took quite a tumble there you know. Just making sure you're…" He frowned deeper, no doubt weary of his role as the 'good cop'. Not one word, she reminded herself. "I made us a fire," he said gesturing to the pitiful flames behind him, "Took a few tries, you know damn near everything out here's wet. But I finally got it goin'."

Southern. What, did they thing throwing in a country twang was going to make her open up and give them what they wanted? She had nothing to give; she'd told them that over and over again. They just don't give up, she thought despairingly. "Listen, I know it's cold out here. I'm sorry about your clothes, I-I wanted to have them dry before you woke up, but the fire…well like I said I just got it going." What was he talking about? The wind picked up a little and brushed against her legs. She looked down and to her horror she found herself naked from the thighs down. Gasping in terror she tried to move away from him. So this was the last tactic. They had promised, even through all the agony they'd caused, that they would never do this; not this. She had believed them, and she was wrong. "Hey, hey take it easy," he soothed and reached out to steady her.

"No! Don't you promised—liars!" she ejected and fell into a fit of coughing.

He looked at her confused and then a sad look crossed his face. "You don't remember me do you?" He watched silently as she pulled herself into a fierce, shuddering ball. Her green eyes were violent and watched his movements with rapt attention. "Well, we didn't exactly exchange pleasantries. I'm Nick, that's my name." He waited a beat for her to reply in kind and sighed when she kept a stony silence. "I saw you coming out of the woods, to the east," he pointed. Her eyes followed his hand and again rested on his face. "I fell, remember? You were coming from the new camp they took us to. I think I seen you at the first one once. That man was followin' us, I never seen him before. Big fella with a tattoo goin' up into his hair. Anyways he caught up with us at the waterfall and—" Nick paused when he heard her gasp.

"A waterfall?" she whispered.

"Yes. You saved my life up there, he'd nearly skinned me." He pointed to a very deep slash on his forehead and she winced in spite of herself.

"I was running…the river…my wrists," she said looking down at her hands and then back at him.

"I finally got it off you when I pulled you out of the water."

"You?"

He nodded and sat on his haunches while she stared at him. "I still can't tell you anything. I remember flashes, but…"

"You still don't trust me," he finished, "I don't blame you. Well," he said and stood, causing her to jump, "maybe you'll believe him." Nick walked out of the warm radius of the fire, feeling her eyes against his back. He knelt in front of a large mass on the ground covered in pine boughs. She gasped and shrank back when he pull a bough off one end of the mass. It was the body of their pursuer. "Remember him?" he nodded grimly to the body.

Without taking her eyes off of it she nodded fiercely. "Yes, that man's name was Richard. He worked on my hands."

Nick glanced down at them before she tucked them under her armpits. They were red and hugely swollen. It was a wonder she was able to hold the rock before. "Jesus," he whispered, "what did they do to you?"

She fought back the tears and the memories as she shook her head. Instead, she looked into his eyes hopefully. "Nick, my name is Calleigh."

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More Chapters Coming Your Way! Comments? Please Review, Thanks!


	3. Still Night

**Still Night**

III.

Nick unlocked the door to his house and shut it behind him. Sitting on the arm of his sofa, he whistled softly through his teeth. Seconds later he heard the soft clicks of the puppy as he ran into the den at full throttle, tail wagging madly. Grinning, Nick scooped him up into the air. "Hey there buddy. Miss me?" The puppy wriggled frantically in his hands trying desperately to get close enough to lick his nose. "Alright let's go for a walk." As he set him back on the ground, the puppy seized his opportunity, leapt up and licked him on the lips. "Gross Bosco," Nick said wiping his mouth.

The game sucked. The Aggies were on a fat loosing streak that no amount of half-drunken encouragement could change. Warrick had bailed on their coveted game night to catch some much needed alone time with his wife. Nick was especially glad that his friend had talked him out of placing a bet on his team. It was decided, he was off tomorrow, so if those bastards lost he was going to drink the entire goddamned pack. "C'mon you sonuvabitch! Throw your damn arm back, Jesus!" Bosco whined in his sleep, his small stomach full on booty of sneaked potatoe chips and stolen pepperonis. He had already peed twice behind the sofa as Nick, who was still none the wiser, yelled obscenities at the television.

Nick was running through a clearing chasing something. Or was he being chased? The drop in front of him loomed closer. He could fly; fly like he always knew he could when he was a kid. Not the kind of flying that had ultimately resulted in him plummeting from his parent's roof top and breaking his arm, but _real_ flight. It was fantastic! There was buzzing in his ears; he could feel it all through his body. The wind was warm, the sun shone brightly and winked at him. But the buzzing grew persistently louder. Nick snapped his eyes open. "Shit." His phone continued to buzz in his pocket. "Stokes," he growled. "Hello?" Silence greeting him on the other end.

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"Yo Nicky! Eh, what'd I tell you man?" Warrick called to him outside the locker room.

"Yeah I know man," he said sitting down on the bench, "I never thought I'd be ashamed to call them my team."

"Yeah, I saw the highlights on Sports Center, whew! Ass-whoopin', ball-stompin'—"

Nick eyed him grumpily. "You aren't makin' me feel any better Warrick."

"Hey, I'm not here to kiss your boo-boos. Point in fact; I'd say saving you over a grand should make you feel great!"

Catherine poked her head through the door. "Hey boys, we got cases let's go. Nicky, I watched your team the other night, they got their asses—"

"Kicked, yes I know thank you Catherine."

"You didn't bet on them did you?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

Smirking, Warrick reached into his locker and quickly began changing shirts. "Nope, thanks to me," he said looking down at his friend, "I take care of my boy, don't I Nick?"

Grunting in reply, Nick kicked his locker shut and stalked out of the room.

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"This is Stokes…hello? Hello—goddamnit!" Nick said slamming his phone shut.

David paused before he made a small incision in the man's abdomen. "Problem?"

"No, well yeah. This same jerk's been callin' me for two weeks straight."

"So?" Gil peered down at the dead man's shoe and plucked a green fiber from a groove in the heel.

"So? So he won't say anything. He just keeps callin' me like four times a day!"

The thermometer beeped softly. "Temp's 94.6 degrees, that puts TOD around six this morning," reported David.

Gil shrugged and bagged the fiber. "Rules out the wife. How do you know he's a 'he'?"

Nick closed and opened his mouth before answering. "Because…because I can hear _him_ breathing and no woman sounds like that."

"Why don't you block his number then? Grissom, do you mind if we bag him?"

"No, go ahead David. Tell Doc Robbins I'll be there shortly, I want to watch this personally."

"I can't block it man."

"You can't do what?" Gil asked confused.

"Block his number. I tried, but my phone won't let me. Called the phone company, the number doesn't even show on up my bill—doesn't exist."

"Well that's not possible." Gil looked at him over the top of his glasses. "Assume not that what one cannot see does not exist; for even the wind leaves a trail."

As he reached into an open cabinet, Nick frowned. "Griss, man has anyone ever told you that you speak in Haiku's?"

"Well, we're outta here. Hope it works out for you Nick," David called over the gurney.

"Yeah, see ya Super Dave." Nick returned to his work, but was distracted by Grissom's words. "Well, maybe I'll let Archie take a look at it."

"That sounds like a good idea," Gil murmured. "Oh, looks like somebody left a piece of their scalp. Hand me a bag would you?"

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Archie pursed his lips, frowning at the screen. Behind him, Nick paced back and forth in the small lab. "Archie, you're killing me, you got anything yet?"

Still typing frenetically, Archie sighed. "Well yes and no."

"I'd rather have a yes."

"Wouldn't we all? Come here," he said waving Nick over. "You see this? Normal phone numbers are just a series of ten digits. Seven are unique and the other three indicate the location of service. Well, this number has a lot more."

"It's foreign?"

"Good guess, but no. The digits are too long. Sometimes it has thirteen, others sixteen, and so on."

"It's jumping."

"In a way; but it's a scrambler."

Nick nodded, squinting at the screen. "Like they use for IP addresses."

"Exactly, but this doesn't look like anything I've seen before. It's like none of the codes or programs that I'm using are working on this thing. It's state-of-the-art, high tech; probably cooked up in a home lab. None of the command lines match any of the codes in our database. This guy that's been calling you is no joke."

Nick grumbled, "I thought you said there was a 'yes' involved in this."

"Oh yeah, it's got a faint signal coming from somewhere in the Far West."

"That's it? Archie, there's damn near ten states in the _Far West_!"

Archie swiveled in his chair to face Nick. "Well, actually there's eleven states, including us. I'm sorry man, but that's all I got."

Nick felt extremely discouraged, but smiled at him anyway. "It's alright Arch, I appreciate you running it through, I really do."

"Sure thing Nick," he replied handing him back his phone. "Listen, I made a duplicate of your phone chip, so I'll keep working on this. Let you know if I find anything."

Nick clapped him on the shoulder and left the lab.

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"_It_ _was a cold night in Miami, and all the bars were closed. Jerry saw a woman walkin' and knew her name was Rose_," Nick sang softly as he unlocked his front door. "_She smiled at him shyly and asked him what he did; Jerry started talkin' and_—hey Bosco! Bosco, your old man's home!" But the puppy didn't come. He frowned a little puzzled, but continued humming to himself. Flipping on the television he sat on the sofa and kicked off his boots. "_Made for one another_—damnitt!" he cursed, stepping in yet another wet spot. There was nothing worse than being in socks and stepping in cold pee. But as he lifted up his foot to inspect the damage, Nick noticed that it was not a yellow stain on his foot, but a red one; _blood_. His heart began to pound as he saw more splotches of blood around the coffee table. "Bosco? Where are you Bos?" He whistled through his teeth, but the puppy still did not come. On his hands and knees he searched under the sofa. It was then that he heard a small whimper. "Buddy?" he called coaxingly, making his way over to the sound. There, curled up in the space between two bookshelves, was his puppy whimpering softly to him. "Hey, whatcha doin' in there?" he murmured and gently lifted him out. His small, brown muzzle was caked in drying blood. Tail wiggling feebly, Bosco whimpered and licked his hand leaving a trail of blood and saliva on Nick's palm.

"What'd you do Bos?" Nick stuck his forefinger in the puppy's mouth and gently pried it open. He gasped when he saw that two of Bosco's teeth were missing. As he cradled him to his chest, the puppy began to cry in earnest. Nick sat back on his haunches with him and wondered what he could have chewed on that would rip his teeth out. The floor creaked behind him. Bosco wriggled in his arms, crying louder and growling. "Hey, what's goin' on bud? Calm down, you're alright I'm gonna fix it." The floor creaked a second time, Bosco was in hysterics, barking and crying madly. "What's with y—"

_Wham_

Stars twinkled lazily at him from the sky. They danced around him singing his favorite songs, laughing merrily. Nick blinked, realizing that he was staring up at his ceiling. The back of his head was on fire. Something was not right. He rolled over on his side to see Bosco being kicked across the room by a man dressed in all black. The puppy let out a shriek of pain as his small body pelted into the wall and slid to the floor unmoving. "HEY!" Nick screamed, reaching for his gun. His sight was off. Were there two men or just one? Definitely two. Line up the sight, cock the gun, and pull the trigger. The force blasted him back a few inches into the bookshelf. The acrid smell of gun smoke filled his nostrils as he lined up the second man in his sights. Had he gotten the last one? The blow to the back of his head must be messing with his vision. Were there three men or two? Fear and rage were rolled up tight inside him, making is head spin. Nick pushed himself to his knees to take better aim. A third man suddenly rushed towards him kicking him savagely in the face. Nose broken, Nick choked on his own blood as the man rained blow upon blow to his face. The stars smiled at him, twinkling and laughing. _It was a cold night in Miami…_

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Two shots were fired in the range. Calleigh lowered her gun for a split second and then fired another round just for the hell of it.

"I think your love of guns is bordering on the unhealthy, Calleigh."

Taking off her protective goggles, she turned smiling at Ryan who was slouched in the door frame of her lab. "Oh, you're only jealous because I'm a better shot than you. Whaddya got for me?"

"Results from Valera. Tox was positive for methamphetamines. What you got for me?"

"Well, I haven't gotten that far yet. They just delivered the gun ten minutes ago." She slipped the safety back on the pistol and unlatched the bench guard to retrieve the fired bullets. "Stick around Ryan, I might teach you a thing or two."

"Oh I don't doubt that," he muttered. "Hey, you hear about that CSI down in Vegas?"

"No, what're you talking about?"

Ryan moved further into the lab and leaned against her desk. "Stotes or somethin', he's been abducted. It's been all over the news, where've you been?" he asked incredulously.

Calleigh pried the second bullet from the bullet trap. "Oh, just cultivating my unhealthy love; aka working. What happened?"

Ryan shrugged, "They haven't got any leads yet, it's been two days."

"Two days and no leads? Doesn't look good."

"I know. His house was trashed, there was blood all over the place, his and an unknown male. Vegas is in a frenzy; apparently this is the second time he's been kidnapped."

"Oh my gosh," she frowned. "Someone must really have it out for the poor guy."

"Wouldn't trade places with him."

"Whose team was it?"

"Gil Grissom's. Delko says you guys ran a case with them few years back."

"Yeah, I remember, but he wasn't on that case; I've never met him." For some reason she felt vulnerable under Ryan's gaze. Bullets in her gloved hand, she walked over to the microscope and compared them to the evidence pulled from the scene. "Striations are six right with a twist. It's the same gun."

"We got 'im. Thanks Cal," he said.

"Sure, I'll get the report to you within the hour. Will you have Gaines in the interview room by then?"

Ryan gave a curt nod. "I'll make it happen."

The lab was quiet after he left. Calleigh sat down at her desk and began typing her ballistics report for the Gaines case. She knew it was inane, but she suddenly felt very uneasy and exposed in the stillness of her lab. She whipped her head around to the door to see if anyone was watching. It was stupid, she knew, they were in a government run lab—someone was _always_ watching. With a rueful glance to the security camera, Calleigh continued typing. She chided herself quietly, but nearly jumped out of her chair when the shrill ring of her cell phone cut through the silence. "This is Duquesne…hello? Can I help you, is anyone there?" she called into the phone. Frowning, she checked the caller ID; it was unlisted. Shutting the phone softly she looked at the door once again, over her shoulder for good measure, cursed herself and continued her report as quickly as she could.

---------------------

The sun was blazing hot. Her silk camisole clung to her, sweat soaked, like a wet skin. Horatio knelt over the body of the gunshot victim, picking through the dead man's clothes. To any passersby, he might look like a well-dressed grave robber, but his associates knew that he had eyes that were better trained than a thief in the night. If something was out of place, Horatio Caine would be the one to find it. Calleigh's cell phone buzzed and rang in her pocket. Flinching, she scrambled to answer it. "Duquesne," she answered forcefully. "Oh, sorry Eric…okay I'll let him know."

"Everything alright?" Horatio asked without looking up.

"Yeah, Eric says he's caught in a traffic jam on 95, but he'll be here within thirty minutes."

"Bad time of day to be stuck," he said glancing up at the scorching sun. "But I meant…is everything alright with you?"

Calleigh took a little more time than necessary opening her evidence box and snapping on gloves. "I'm fine," she replied smiling.

"It's just that, you seem a little on edge," he rumbled quietly.

"It's nothing, really." Kneeling down on the opposite side of the body, her phone rang again; she didn't want to answer it. Well, not with him watching her at least. "Duquesne…hello?" Closing her phone, Calleigh felt his eyes on her. Even through his dark sunglasses she could feel the full weight of them weighing _her_.

"Sweetheart…tell me what's bothering you." He had a way of asking and demanding that made her tell him things that she had no intention of telling anyone. She knew he was solid, she knew he was reliable, but so was she. Though she composed the necessary sentences in her head, she heard herself telling him exactly what she had decided not to.

"Someone has been calling me, but not saying anything. It's nothing to get worried over, but—"

"How long?"

"A week and a half…at least four times a day," she admitted.

"Will you do something for me?" Horatio asked.

"Sure, what?"

"Calleigh I want you to take that phone over to the lab and have them check the number. Will you do that?"

"Horatio," she began, "I honestly don't think it's necessary to waste—"

"Nothing is a waste when it comes to safety and I think you know that."

Calleigh looked away from him, feeling her cheeks color. She hated for him to think that she couldn't handle a damn phone call, even if it was beginning to set her on edge. "Alright, I'll run it by the lab when we get back."

Horatio nodded and bent back over the body. "Good choice. And Calleigh…don't ever think that I don't believe you're capable of handling yourself. Not for one second."

Calleigh met his gaze, giving him a genuine smile. "Thank you."

"Always."

---------------------

A bowl of coffee flavored ice cream was in order. They had been unable to trace the number of the person calling her. _Somewhere West_ they said. Knowing this didn't make her feel any better. In fact the prospect of having no tangible information only served to make her feel worse. Who was it and what did they want with her? This was no prank, she could feel it, but it was still _just_ a phone call. Calleigh tossed her keys in the gray porcelain bowl next to the door. Everything seemed to be weighing her down lately. Her father, her job, hell and now her phone was another ton added to the batch. The air conditioning kicked on, blowing cool air that carried a slight salty tang from the ocean.

Curled in bed in her silk pajamas, Calleigh balanced reading her new favorite book and a bowl of wonder-filled, nerve soothing, caramel coffee ice cream. Each spoonful calmed her, pushing the day to a corner far in the back of her mind. Page after page she read, until her eyes began to droop. She glanced at the clock, it was only five after nine; she could squeeze in another chapter before falling asleep…

It was the door to the anteroom that woke her. It was the only one that squeaked on its hinges. She sat up in bed like a bolt of lightening, the book sliding off of her chest. The heaviness of sleep immediately left her; _someone_ was in her apartment. Why had the alarm not sounded? No time to questions it, much of her floors were covered in carpet or tile, so there was no way to tell how far they were from her bedroom. Calleigh dropped silently to the floor. She needed to get to her gun safe, but it was across the room in her closet. If they heard movement they would know she was awake, but there was no way she would allow herself to be caught without some protection. It was difficult to keep her hands from shaking as she entered the combination code. The safe door swung partially open with a metallic click that sounded loud enough to be heard across the room and she prayed they missed it. Inside laid a Glock 39, a Smith & Wesson 410S, two extra magazines and a small tactical light. Calleigh grabbed the 39 and an extra magazine, which she stuffed into the elastic banding of her pants. She pulled out the slide, checked the chamber, and quietly slid it back.

Quickly she tipped back towards her bed to grab her phone. Punching in 911 she put it to her ear and waited. _I'm sorry, but the subscriber you've called has requested no incoming calls. Please try back again…I'm sorry, but the subscriber_—Calleigh felt icy fear flood through her veins. She tried three more emergency numbers, known only to law enforcement, but received the same recorded message. They had blocked her phone. It was a struggle to control her breathing as her heart raced. Titling the safety back to half-cocked, Calleigh debated whether or not she could survive a jump from her bedroom window and still be able to make it away safely. Half-way to the window, she froze. A green light flashed underneath the bedroom door.

---------------------

"Lieutenant, lieutenant sir!" Lau jogged breathlessly after Horatio and Eric.

Swiveling around, Horatio placed his hands on his hips and eyed the officer. "Yes Lau?"

"Sir, this just came for you, it's says open immediately."

"Yes, I can see that," he murmured eyeing the small box. There was no return address, nor was it stamped by a post office.

"Well it's—well it's ticking, sir. Literally ticking." Lau looked at though he wanted to thrust the box to anyone who would take it and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He made as if to push it into his hands, but Horatio took a cautioned step back.

Eric titled his head to the side, eyes going wide. "_Ticking_? Jesus did you x-ray it?!"

"I'm sure he did Eric."

"Of course we did," Lau said sounding affronted.

"Well thank you for your speedy…delivery," said Horatio, "We'll take it from here. Eric, come with me." Quickly they walked into an empty lab, where they both put on gloves. Horatio laid the box gently on the steel table and reached for an exacto knife. "Here we go," he muttered. Inside were two items, a DV tape and a cheap, ticking stop watch. "No bomb then. Eric, dust the watch, I'll do the tape."

Eric nodded, looking a little pale. Methodically they dusted for prints, but were unsurprised to find none. Horatio walked around the table to the computer station. He placed the tape in the player and stepped back. The large screen above them played the black and white video silently. The video showed an aerial view of a bedroom. The time code on the bottom of the screen read 11:57 and continued counting up. Horatio scanned the room looking for anything peculiar. A woman was apparently asleep, a bowl lay on the night stand, there was a novel on her chest...nothing out of the ordinary. Two minutes went by as they watched quietly. Suddenly, the woman shot upright in bed. Something had woken her. They watched as she slipped out from beneath her covers and made her way over to the far side of the room, closer to the camera.

"Oh my God H, that's Cal!" Eric yelled. "I'm going over there, send back up."

The older man put out a hand in front of Eric without taking his eyes off the screen. "It's too late Eric, or they wouldn't have sent us the tape. We need to watch this."

Eric raked his hands through his hair, unwilling to believe that his supervisor was just going to do nothing. But as he looked back up at the screen, he was unable to tear his eyes away. Calleigh was crouched next to her bedroom door with her gun held out in front of her. She must have been waiting. Did she know there was a camera in her home? How long had it been there? The door opened and a large man dressed in all black stepped through, making his way over to the bed. He didn't see Calleigh until it was too late. Before he could turn around her gun was pressed in his lower back. The man stood stock still; his hands slightly rose out from his sides.

Eric could see her mouth moving, but the video had no sound. Ever so slowly, the large man turned around and faced her. His girth and height easily dwarfed her. Without a gun, she would have been helpless. Calleigh took a step back from him, motioning with her gun. Slowly he began walking back out of the bedroom with her bringing up the rear. They moved out of frame, making Eric hiss through his teeth. Abruptly, the video cut to different footage. It was grainy and choppy. Horatio growled, "Camcorder…there's more than one intruder."

He was right. From the new angle they could see the man coming out of the bedroom and into the den, but Eric had a terrible feeling that she couldn't see _him_. Without warning, a second man sprang out from the kitchen and slammed his fist hard into her head. She crumpled into a heap. Eric bit down hard on his fist to keep from yelling as the man kicked her in the ribs. Again she tried to get up and again she was forced back down by a fist. The first man who came into her bedroom mouthed something to the person holding the camera and moved out of frame. Eric's eyes were glued to Calleigh as she writhed on the ground, curling up into a ball. Believing she was down for good, the second man walked over to a bag and pulled out a roll of duct tape. Slowly, incrementally, Eric watched as Calleigh's small hand inched towards a broken vase that had fallen in the fight. She picked up a sizable shard and pulled it back towards her.

"Good girl," Horatio murmured.

The man with the duct tape returned and knelt over her, breaking off lengths of the tape. Without warning Calleigh sprang forward and sank the shard into his face. He reared back, spraying blood everywhere. The first man rushed out from the kitchen and threw himself on top of her. But it was too late; it only took two seconds for her to reach her gun during the confusion. Calleigh didn't try to fight him as he wrapped his hands around her throat. She only pressed the gun into his cheek and pulled the trigger. There was a flash of bright light after the shot; bone and brain matter blew onto the chair behind them. The man slumped onto her, bleeding down her neck. He was heavy, easily three times her size and dead weight to boot. She was only able to push him halfway off of her before the second man, a terrible gash marring his face, rushed her. Before she could raise her gun he kicked it away. Again Eric bit down on his fist, while Horatio looked on impassively. The man took a fistful of her bloodstained hair and slammed her hard into the bookshelf. Books fell to the floor and again he grabbed her by the hair, this time holding her close to his ruined face. He raised his fist and both Eric and Calleigh closed their eyes. He heard Horatio sigh and when he opened his eyes, the screen was black.

Horatio breathed slowly. When he spoke, his voice was cold steel. "Eric, I want you to send a team over to Calleigh's apartment—take Wolfe with you." Eric nodded, still staring at the blank screen. "I know that it will be difficult, but try and keep the press out of this as long as possible; do this quietly but quickly. And Eric," The younger man turned to face him, "get Vegas on the phone."

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More Chapters Coming Your Way! Comments? Please Review, Thanks!


	4. Fire Waves

**A/N: **Wow, sorry it took so, so long to update. I looked up one day and realized it's been damn near a year! Time flies man. THANK YOU THANK YOU to all of those who took the time to review! Truly awesome and appreciated. This next installment is tracking N/C as they run through the woods. Chapter five will be going back through the twilight zone, so don't get confused! It will either be following Call through her abduction and ordeal or following Horatio & Grissom as they track their fellows. I've already started on Call's chapter, but we'll see which one flows better. I do hope you enjoy this chapter, please R/R! And stick with me, 'cause we're gonna have some fun!

Cheers

V

**Fire Waves**

**.**

**.**

**IV.**

The small fire waved, flickering in the night wind. Its orange glow cast small shadows around their camp—if it could be called a camp. Calleigh was small and easily fit next to him under their shelter. She slept fitfully with her back pressed against his chest for warmth. There wasn't much warmth to be had, as she was still cold to the touch. Nick wondered worried that she would soon come down with a fever or worse yet, pneumonia. Their little refuge was almost no use; the Eagle Scouts had never taught him how _not_ to freeze while running for your life and attracting as little attention as possible in the meantime. The wind easily picked through the leafy branches that were propped up against a medium sized tree, making a rough lean-to. As bone weary as he was, Nick found it difficult to sleep. Every creak of a tree, the midnight scurrying of some small creature, or even the tickle of Calleigh's hair on his face made him start. He shifted his weight a little, trying to ease the soreness in his muscles. She made small sounds, almost moaning in her sleep and Nick wondered if she always slept like that or if it was the result of…

_No_. He would not think about it. Push it away. The mound at the furthest end of the fire drew his eyes yet again. They would have to bury the dead man when dawn broke. There was no way that the body could be left out in the open and be found by creatures, or still worse, men. Nick grimaced. Part of him wanted badly to leave the carcass out here to rot and be torn from limb by the forest animals. The man had almost killed him up on that waterfall and the Lord knew that _Richard_ wouldn't have given a good-goddamn if it had been _his_ body floating down a river. Still, no matter who that man was, or what he had done, no one deserved to lay out like that if it could be helped. Nick just wished he didn't care. Whimpering loudly, Calleigh started awake. Nick could still hear a faint rattle of fluid in her lungs as she breathed. "Hey," he murmured.

Calleigh seemed to have forgotten that he was behind her and jerked away from him, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" she whispered turning to him.

"No," Nick answered truthfully "how're you feelin'?"

Calleigh laid down again, facing him. She paused for a moment before answering, studying his face in the orange light. "I'm alright."

Closed guard. This woman had more walls than Fort Knox. Nick had learned this while he dried her sodden clothes over the fire. At first he'd been excited to have someone to talk to, but as he pressed on with questions about who she was and where she was from, Calleigh danced around them quicker than flames flickered in the wind. He still had whatever trust he had gained with her after the river, but it wasn't much. Hell, she'd just evaded as simple of a question as _how are you feeling_! Nick shifted again and sighed. Her face was a dark, unreadable mask, yet she studied him as intently as one would a map. Her eyes were the most brilliant green, a man could get lost in those eyes. Sharp and intelligent, and weary too, he noticed.

"You should get some sleep," he said, "we have a long way to go tomorrow." He hadn't realized he'd touched her, only brushed the hair back from her face, until she stiffened. Nick's face flushed crimson instantly. What was he thinking? "I-I'm sorry, didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," Calleigh murmured relaxing. "Listen…Nick," she said as if trying out the name for the first time. "I want to thank you for helping me. You saved my life."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, he'd not been expecting that. "Sure, it was nothing."

Calleigh's lips formed into a small smile, a secretive smile; as if she knew things that he himself did not. "Okay," she whispered. "Get some sleep Nick." Turning away from him again she scooted towards him, pressing her back against his chest.

--

Calleigh felt no remorse for the dead. The sun was barely on the horizon and the morning still held a great amount of the night's chill. Nick had insisted that he do the digging, considering the condition of her hands. She didn't like to think about them. They throbbed nonstop and she believed her left one might be close to infection. He was strange, really. She stood a few feet away from him as he hovered over the turned earth. Nick muttered something and crossed himself. _Prayer for the dead man under the earth_. Calleigh couldn't bring herself to walk closer, much less pray for him; not after what he'd done. She knew she didn't forgive easily, especially not something as grievous as his crimes. As she dwelt on those crimes her hands throbbed harder with her thoughts, so she tucked them underneath her arms. Nick turned to her with his head hung low; wet earth covering his hands and bare chest. He knew that she wouldn't come near, so he walked closer to her. When he spoke his voice was raw and hoarse. "You ready?"

"Yes," she replied. How peculiar, would he waste a tear on that monster trapped in the ground? He paused as if waiting for her to say something. What could she say, _I'm sorry_? She wasn't and it burned her that he thought she should be.

Nick wiped his nose on the back of his wrist as he walked over to their lean-to to retrieve his shirt. "It's just that… that I hope, I pray _none_ of us is beyond redemption," he blurted.

"I know you do," Calleigh surprised herself in replying. Suddenly she began to trust in him; something that she found hard to do with people even under normal circumstances. How could she _not_ trust a man who would shed tears over a person who had aided others in causing him such great pain? Their fire smoldered leaving thin wisps of smoke to waft away in the air. Together they kicked dirt over the remains to ensure that it was put out. Calleigh took a deep breath and immediately began coughing. _Damnit_, her lungs would not stop burning! Nick looked at her concernedly, hovering close until her coughing abated. He frowned, no doubt about to ask how she was doing again. The man never let up.

"I'm okay," she breathed. His frown only deepened, but he nodded and pushed his head through the shirt.

The feeling of being watched never seemed to leave them. Nick set the pace as they headed through the forest. Calleigh couldn't help but look over her shoulder every few minutes. She had a strong desire to run and it was hard to keep herself from tearing headfirst down the mountain. Unfortunately, she had little energy enough as it was and charging through the forest was dangerous and would probably lead them aimlessly in circles. The sun was not yet at its peak, but it was becoming more and more clear to Calleigh that even though they were going _down_ the mountain, it was getting colder. How was that possible? Her foot caught on a bramble, sending her face down to the soil. Instantly Nick was there pulling her up again.

"You alright?" he asked. He was extremely close; Nick held her under both arms so that she was pressed against him and forced to look up. His eyes were such a nice hazel.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Nick nodded still holding her, studying her face. What was he trying to find? "Don't mind me; just falling around like a drunk," she laughed feebly. His hands were strong—he was _much_ too close.

Abruptly he released her. "We need to find food. Whatever I ate last was gone yesterday." Apparently, her stomach was in deep agreement with, as it rumbled loudly. Nick loped off through the woods, scanning the trees and ground for something edible. She mimicked his actions, running her hands over the thick brush. Growing up in Louisiana, she and her brothers had romped through the woods behind their home as children, so she had ample opportunity to learn what was good to eat in the forest. Once as a small girl, she and her siblings had eaten small, shriveled fruit off of a tree and ended up with intense diarrhea and stomach cramps for days. Though they all looked back on it now and laughed, Calleigh had no desire to repeat that incident.

Peeking out from beneath a deep green shrub, was a small but prominent yellow head of a flower. "Dandelions," she smiled. She pushed the undergrowth aside and was happy to find a small crop of the wild flowers growing beneath.

"You can eat those?" Nick asked walking up beside her. His hands were full of berries which he held out to her.

"'Course, people eat 'em all the time. It's the latest thing for posh restaurants to serve the leaves with greens for _boocoos_ of money. You can drop the red berries, the dark blue ones are good." They had a handful of berries each and four dandelions between them. The berries were small with a tough outer skin that when chewed, sprayed bitter pulp into their mouths. Refreshingly soft and light, the dandelion heads tasted like sweet sap. Its tart leaves, mixed with the sweetness of the flower, helped to wash away the hard bitterness of the berries. Their meal wasn't much, but Calleigh was grateful for the small kick of energy it provided.

Nick wiped his hands down the sides of his pants, smearing them in dark blue. The skin surrounding the gash beneath his hairline had turned a deep, almost black purple overnight. It looked nasty and Calleigh winced at the thought of it. Nick turned and caught her eye. "What?"

"Nothing…it just looks bad," she said pointing.

He fingered the bruised skin tentatively. "Nothin' I can't handle. I got worse, _believe_ me," he said grimly. Calleigh nodded, but didn't respond; she was sure they both did. She stood up on the log they had rested on and looked up at the sky. Nick stood next to her, their arms touching lightly. Why were men always so warm? She wanted to lean into him to soak up the small radius of heat that he emanated.

To the south of them, in the direction they were headed, deep gray clouds billowed and advanced north. "A storm," she whispered. No wondered it was getting colder the lower they hiked. Miles south the tree tops swayed and shuddered as if forced down by an invisible hand. As she looked on a shiver ran down her spine; out of the mass of clouds shadowy tendrils of darkness snaked and crept north like sentries. Calleigh swallowed with difficulty. "We need to get moving as soon as possible," she told him without taking her eyes off of the clouds. "That storm'll be on us in less than three hours." After living in Miami for more than seven years, she knew something about storms. Over the years she'd lost count of the tempests and squalls that came roaring off the ocean to moor in South Florida. They had three hours _if _they were lucky.

Nick turned to her. "How fast can you move?"

A jolt of irritation mixed with shame went through her. She'd been having difficulty catching her breath during the hike. It was a struggle not to cough and though she refused to fully acknowledge it yet, the dizziness she felt was not from hunger, but fever. Calleigh bit off a reply. "As fast as I need to." She was slowing him down and she knew it. Damn her lungs for burning and damn him for noticing it. "We need to make as much headway as we can and then make camp."

Nick nodded and cradled his left side. She'd seen him do that a few times already and was sure that he must have a bruised rib or two. "Mmm-hm, but if it's coming as fast as you think it is maybe we should start up a camp now. We're barely making a mile an hour; the forest is too thick. Whaddaya think?"

Calleigh could feel his eyes on her. She knew what she thought. She wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible and if they only made one more mile today then it was one more closer to home. She was _not_ being rash, she wasn't. "I think we should get moving Nick, the sooner the better. Making camp's fine before the storm, but we run the risk of one of them finding us while we wait for the storm to hit. And I don't want to take that chance; I think the further away the better." A sensible argument if she said so herself.

"I don't either," he agreed, "but Calleigh if you push yourself too har—"

"I'm okay right now," she forced herself to look him in the eye and smile. "So let's make the most of it while we can." They were going to get off of this mountain come hell or high water. "Shall we?"

--

Leaves and dry branches blew past as the storm began to announce its presence. It had been well over an hour since their meal and Nick's stomach was cramping in hunger. She stumbled again, but this time Nick pretended not to notice. Something was definitely not right with her, but she'd made it known in so many ways that she did not enjoy being coddled. The forest was a never ending stretch of trees that enclosed them on all sides. Its canopy of trees bent and swayed in the wind. Far off, in the middle of the storm, Nick could here some of the tree limbs snapping under the pressure of the wind. They couldn't put off making a shelter any longer, especially since anything they put up was apt to be blown away.

"Calleigh, we need to stop and look for a place to hole up." Nick heard her stop and braced himself for the onslaught.

"Okay," Calleigh replied. Nick wheeled around, eyeing her suspiciously. "What?" she asked.

"Nothin', hey are you alright?" He noticed that she bristled whenever he asked this, but he couldn't help himself. "I mean I don't know how you're holdin' up, but I could use a little rest myself."

She stood there small and pale, hugging herself. Instead she smiled weakly at him and nodded. "I could do with a sit down."

Nick led them to a fallen tree that was covered in thick green moss. With a sigh she sat down wearily. As much as she tried to put up a strong front the strain was evident in her eyes. Except for the creaking of trees, the forest around them seemed to go dead silent. Not a bird chirped, nor a squirrel chattered, nothing skittered unseen in the underbrush. It seemed as if everything was awaiting the impending storm. In the eerie silence Nick could hear her uneven breathing; it rattled with every breath. Slowly he put the back of his hand to her forehead. To his surprise she didn't move away, but seemed to lean into his touch. He nearly gasped at the feel of her skin; it was on fire with fever. Their eyes met and he suddenly understood why she kept evading his questioning concern and why she had been so adamant about pushing them when they should have stopped. Looking into her eyes it was plain that she knew she was ill; she kept pushing them because she wanted to put as much distance between them and their captors while she still was able.

Nick smiled sadly and cupped her cheek. "Calleigh…," he sighed. She shook her head softly, but returned his sad smile.

"Let's find ourselves a hole," she said.

Nodding, Nick gathered himself to stand up. "Alright, but you stay here." Calleigh frowned, but this time she didn't argue with him.

--

Outside in a small cave the blizzard raged and two survivors huddled together for warmth and assurance. One cradled the other while the other clung tenaciously to consciousness. Despite the heat that they shared it was not enough to keep them from shivering in the cold. The night lengthened and the storm persisted, Nick noticed a change in his companion. Her head hung low on his chest and Calleigh only shivered occasionally; sporadic convulsive type shaking. Any strength that her muscles had left to shiver and create warmth was waning in the wake of her progressing fever. Nick could feel the heat coming off of her in waves, but her skin was cold and slick with chilled sweat. Twice her whispered her name into her ear, but she was limp and unresponsive.

His muscles burned in exhaustion and he fought to stay alert in the dark. Somewhere above their cave a wolf howled into the night, as if urging the storm on. Nick glanced fearfully towards the sound, willing himself not to panic. Inside was black as pitch and only the hard thumping of his heart, her warm shallow breath on his forearm and the cold stone beneath him where the only assurances he had that they had not, in fact, descended into hell. As she slipped further into unconsciousness, Calleigh began to moan and mumble in her sleep. Nick pulled her further into his lap and with his lips pressing against her ear, he began to pray.

--

More Chapters Coming Your Way! Comments? Please Review, Thanks!


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